The man on the bridge
by Disdream
Summary: OS based on an Imagine, Imagine being there to comfort Cas when he needs to cry for the first time


_Here's a new story, a One Shot written in English again. It's based on a Supernatural Imagine._

_The beta reader **scary-blue** did the proofreading of the text (Thank you again, Sarah ^^)_

_Oh, and it's a reader/Castiel story, I know I should not leave the "you" and write it as "she", but... I forgot and I don't want to change it now, maybe later..._

**Title **: The man on the bridge

**Warnings :** angst, slight mention of suicide, and death of a character – set after season 9 finale.

**Summary :** Imagine being there to comfort Cas when he needs to cry for the first time.

I hope you will like it =)

* * *

You had not slept all night. Too cold, too hot, you couldn't get comfortable, tangled under your blanket. The darkness had kept your eyes wide open, the noises outside had kept you awake, and you had suffered to get through the long hours. Now, you had had enough. Knowing you were definitely not going to fall asleep till the morning, you got up, leaving the nightmare of your bed. Feeling like a walk would help you recover from this horrendous night, you sneaked outside, being careful not to make a sound. Your family was still asleep, and you made sure not to wake anyone up.

Freezing in the cold streets, you followed the empty roads till to the bridge. The city was calm and full of dreams. Some stray cats fled at your approach, climbing fences and walls. The sun was going to rise soon enough. You didn't really know where to go so you just wandered, and kept going straight ahead. Arriving at the bridge, you watched some cars waiting at the red traffic light. As the sky was slowly becoming paler, the windows reflected the soft lighting of the sunrise.

Your breath was like a white cloud, but the coldness didn't really bother you. You took the bridge and began to cross above the river that flowed under the thin ice. The dawn was colouring the sky with pale blue and yellow, and a touch of pink. When you lifted your head, as you walked nose to the ground, you noticed a shadow far from you, in the middle of the bridge. As you got closer, you realised it was a man, standing against the barrier, completely still in his old trench coat.

He was tall and middle aged. Something was odd, you could see it. He looked distressed.

"Oh God", you thought, slightly anxious. "Is he gonna jump?"

As you took more steps towards him, you asked yourself what you should do. You couldn't possibly pass by him without checking if the man was suicidal! You didn't feel very comfortable with the idea of having to get involved, but thinking that this man could have made the journey here and stared at the water until he gathered the strength, or the despair, to jump was heartbreaking. He looked so lonely!

He didn't notice your presence until you asked carefully:

"Is everything all right, Sir?"

He looked at you, with frowning eyebrows, his jaws tightly clenched. His eyes were the most beautiful blue you had ever seen, almost like if it was made of the sky. Then he turned his head around, whispering:

"No."

You froze at his answer. His voice was low and vibrant.

"Are you lost ?"

He didn't answer. You inquired urgently:

"Are you gonna jump?"

You realized afterward it was not the smartest thing you could have asked him. He looked puzzled, but didn't give you the time to explain yourself.

"Ha, yes. That's what humans do."

You were more and more confused by his words and the way he spoke, his deep and tormented voice.

"What do you mean by...?"

But the man didn't listen to you anymore ; he was now gazing again at the horizon. And when you noticed that his hands were tightly gripping the barrier, his fingers fixed and his knuckles livid, you suggested, trying to be convincing :

"Why don't we walk a bit together, and you can tell me what's going on. I mean, if you need someone to talk to..."

"You are a nice person. I appreciate your offer, but I don't need your help. You can't help me, because there is nothing to do. Among all, even I can't do anything."

You were not sure you understood. He was becoming more and more confusing, but the struggle you read in his eyes was real. Spotting a bench a little farther on the bridge, that faced the river and allowed the passerby to contemplate the scenery, you insisted:

"Please, walk with me. We can sit somewhere and wait until it gets better?"

Your tone was now desperate to make the man move from the barrier, and come with you. You thought it was a lost cause when he whispered that it was not going to get better, but to your surprise, he turned to you and agreed to follow you.

"Where do you want to go?"

You lifted your hand towards his arm, with a slight hesitation, and you grabbed the rough sleeve of his trenchcoat. But when you wanted to take him by the arm, sliding your hand under his elbow, he stepped away. Startled, you bit your lips, afraid that he was upset, but he remained calm. He just didn't want to be touched.

"Sorry", you muttered, before beginning to walk. "Follow me."

You heard the sound of his steps behind you, and sighed with relief. The bridge was almost empty, and a cold but soft breeze was blowing. The space became larger when you arrived at the middle of the path that crossed the water. There was some installation with binoculars that people could use to contemplate the horizon and the view of the city. And there was this wooden bench where you sat, trying not to mind the dampness and coldness of the seat. You tapped the seat beside you and smiled to the man. He stood a long moment, not leaving his serious frown, before eventually sitting with you.

Then you waited, in the hope that he would tell you his story. The silence between you was slightly uncomfortable, but you waited. Glancing at him, you saw that his gaze was once again lost somewhere, far away in front of you, where the sky, the grey line of buildings and the water joined. But he was not alone anymore. However, his lips remained sealed. Covered by a growing beard, his jaws were clenching. The wind was slowly blowing in his dark hair and his coat. You noticed for the first time that your hands were shaking.

Then, feeling that waiting was no use, you took a deep breath and started to talk. You told him about you, your difficulty to sleep, what you were doing these days. You told him about your family, your hopes and fears about your future. You felt stupid but you couldn't stop talking, filling the silence, pushing him away from his dark thoughts. You ended up telling him things you never told to anyone, about yourself, about your feelings, the people you loved, the ones you hated. He listened to you, without interrupting or commentating. But when you looked at him, you saw his eyes that glared straight ahead and that were red and wet. You felt that... That was the moment. He was going to open up.

"Now, tell me about you", you said with a soft voice.

His voice was almost shaky when he spoke :

"My name is Castiel. And you were right before... I think that I am lost."

"What happened?"

"A dear friend of mine died tonight. Again. But this time, I will not be able to do anything for him."

You were shocked by his answer. Sadness and guilt broke through his words, reflected by his tortured face. He was choosing his words carefully, even though they didn't make much sense for you.

"I was not there for him. I let this happen. I don't know what to do and I have no power anymore."

You felt torn and useless. How could you help him through this, when you didn't even know him nor what happened to his friend, when, where, why...

"I'm really sorry."

"Don't be. This does not concern you."

"That doesn't mean that I can't feel your pain."

Your voice was more vivid and angry than you thought. He turned his head and looked at you with his mesmerizing eyes. His lips were trembling and his eyes almost teary, as if he fought to not cry. Seeing his struggle, you whispered, while hoping that he was not going to think that you were pitying or patronizing him :

"You should cry. Nobody will judge you for that. It will help you feel better..."

You felt like laughing, a pained laugh, when he opened his pale mouth and told you :

"I don't know how. I never cried before."

You wanted to cry too, because this man, with his strange words and attitude, with his profound and angelic eyes, seemed to be extraordinary kind and wise, and seeing him hurt like this was like seeing an angel cry. You lifted your hand and pressed your finger against his wet cheek.

"But you don't need to learn. You're already crying."

He looked at you in disbelief when you showed him the salted water, and more tears came out from his eyes. You let him cry, helping him breathe by pressing your hand on his back, moving your palm in circle against his worn trenchcoat, maybe a bit awkwardly. The bright light of the rising sun enveloped you in an embrace, warming both of you as the pain slowly fled away. After that, you exchanged some words, and he walked with you to the end of the bridge.

You gave him your phone number when he refused to let you walk him home, after first making sure he was not going to consider giving up again. He seemed more peaceful when he thanked you, telling you that you were more of an angel that some he knew. You didn't know how to respond, you just smiled and walked away. When you looked back, he had disappeared, leaving you with an aching heart.

The end

**_To the anon who posted a review as a guest : _**

_Thank you very much for your review, your feedback means a lot to me. I'm sorry to hear that it has been a reoccuring theme for you. I've also been affected by this, and people close to me. _


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